


Five Times Zeke Could Find The Right Words, And One Time He Was Speechless

by ghibliterritory



Category: The Get Down (TV)
Genre: (is that what we call him), (theres no tag for him), M/M, Zeke is poetic af, and also bi af, and he sees a lot of nice stuff when he looks at shao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:03:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8250067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghibliterritory/pseuds/ghibliterritory
Summary: The wordsmith twirled a pen in his hand, mind clicking and rumbling as it worked. It was the late hours that he had the most creativity. Odd, but true. Thinking back to the roof, he went over the conversation before his pen lowered to the paper and he let the words flow.





	1. Sittin' in a palace...

I.

“Y’know, I never got why you call this place a temple.”

 

The words are out of place, filling the silence that seemed to take over the night air around the boys on the roof. Zeke sat on the ground, with his back pressed up against the brick ledge, and Shaolin leaned forward against it. The smoke of their shared joint floated above their heads, dissipating in seconds.

 

The only other thing filling their silence was the usual sound of the Bronx, but Zeke learned to tune it out so much that one day he just stopped really hearing it.

 

Shao looked down to his wordsmith, eyebrow raised.

 

“What do you mean by that, man?”

 

Zeke straightened out his back before standing, one hand on the ledge to help support himself. “I mean, this place. You call it your temple, and you called the old place your dojo, right? And I get that you got that Fists of Fury shit going on here, but really truly, temple just doesn’t do here, you get me?”

 

Shao seemed to consider this for a second. “Yeah, yeah, I get you. But what else would you wanna call it?”

 

A few words already came to Zeke’s mine-  _ Olympus, the home of the Gods- _ But that was a bit much. Shao might have been a god, but Zeke couldn’t that admit that. Not to him. Maybe to his scrappy notebook, but not to him.

 

So, both of them pondered what to call the home of Shaolin Fantastic, when one struck Zeke’s brain like lightning.

 

“The Palace.”

 

The DJ stared at his wordsmith, who had a wide grin on his face, before the latter took the time to explain the word.

 

“This place is not only huge, it’s nice as hell, considering some of the other shit we got here. You’ve got rooms and rooms- Like a palace- And the place even  _ looks _ like a palace. Some fairy tale shit.”

 

This was thought over, before Shao grinned, and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I like that. Now introducing the palace of the Fantastic Four plus One!”

 

Zeke gave a whoop of delight, and slapped Shao’s back, before they went back to smoking and discussing whatever kind of nothings popped up.

 

Later that night, Zeke sat on the large couch in one of the main rooms of the now proclaimed palace. Shao sat up against the cushions next to him, leaned against the arm of the couch and snoring his little heart away. The wordsmith twirled a pen in his hand, mind clicking and rumbling as it worked. It was the late hours that he had the most creativity. Odd, but true. Thinking back to the roof, he went over the conversation before his pen lowered to the paper and he let the words flow.

 

_ I’ve got bottles full of words, _

_ But I’ll keep them for the time to come, _

_ ‘Cuz we gotta worry about our palace right now, _

_ And the Bronx, our miniature kingdom. _


	2. Covered in gold inside my head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of their many successes, Zeke looks over the brothers to take in their own reactions to it.

II.

Parties were a scene that all The Get Down brothers- Even Napoleon, and unexpected addition to the group- Had grown familiar with. The lights and the sounds and the smells, and the feelings, varying but somehow, always the same. Zeke could place a couple of things that were always there. The feeling and the smell of sweat, rolling down his back and face and creating an aroma in the party’s air that they all mostly ignored. The sound of Shao’s record scratching and spinning, edging closer to their last verse que.

 

The timing hit them perfectly. All the brother’s were ready to go, heads high and throats scratchy.

 

“Shaolin’s the DJ that we call conductor, ‘cuz Shaolin Fantastic’s a bad mother-”

 

The scratch of the record cutting them off bounced off the walls just before the crowd’s cheers erupted around them. The boys all seem to look at each other, the proudness of their performance making their faces glow. Zeke can spot Shao out the corner of his eye, panting and sweating after his hard work over the turntables. Shao looks up, catches Zeke’s gaze, and gives him a large grin. No matter how many times they did it, their work together always felt magical.

 

But the joy was briefly interrupted by a large kind of  _ click _ above them, and all the boys looked up to find tons of glitter falling upon them. They turned their heads as to avoid getting any in their eyes, put none of them were able to escape their tiny flecks of golden fate.

 

Zeke spit some glitter out of his mouth, making a face, and looked for the reaction of the brothers around him. Ra-Ra was flipping out, talking about ruining the new Star Wars shirt he had on under his jacket. Boo-Boo attempted to shake it all out of his hair with Napoleon, who couldn’t help but smile some at all the chaos. Dizzee- Weirdo he was- Just let the gold cover him. Zeke had to admit- It fit him well.

 

Turning his head, he finally looked to see how Shao had taken the surprise. Of course, he wasn’t happy about it at all, and made that clear.

 

But Zeke found something… Odd, about his appearance with the now added glitter. Shao looked almost regal, the gold specs shining brightly against his dark skin. The sweat only made him shine more against all the lights that shone down upon them. The imagine imprinted itself in Zeke’s head, and a flow of words came to him right then.

 

Running home later on, he tried to keep the words in his brain, yelling them aloud to himself as to keep them there. He practically flung into his desk chair, and began to scribble furiously.

 

_ A god of light _

_ Mistake you to be _

_ Gold flesh and dark soul _

_ You give off all this light _

_ To illuminate the sinners _

_ Like you and me _


	3. On a bed of roses...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zeke's Tia always knew best. Whether is was for his sake, or someone else's.

III.

Rose sheets.

 

A vivid thing that Zeke remembers about the Palace was the rose sheets.

 

An insignificant thing, probably, but still something prominent in his thoughts. He remembers the day they were added to the Palace’s decor.

 

He’s shared the details about Shao with his Tia many times. He’d sit with her while she did laundry and go on and on about the DJ. All the stuff that Zeke knew- Minus a few details- His Tia knew too. Even the bad. 

 

One day, while she was finishing up laundry and Zeke was hopping off of his little stool next to the machine, he felt something warm press against his stomach. Sheets. The white ones, with all the roses on them.

 

“Take this.” She instructed, and he did that, holding them under his arm. She gave him the matching set with violets after that.

 

“Now, go take these to Shao and Napoleon.” She knew about Napoleon too, seeing as he lived with Shao now, the younger boy almost being raised by the DJ.

 

“Tia, you sure? I mean, I know you really like these sheets-”

 

“Well, they’ll like them more. No harm in giving them some, right?” She shrugged. “Besides, a bare mattress is bad- Let’s bed bugs on it. Go give these to Shao and don’t come back until he takes them.”

 

The command was firm, but still soft. She knew very well that the two didn’t have too many luxuries. So, if sheets were a way to help out, so be it.

 

Zeke didn’t argue. He knew what his Tia was doing, and it made him bite back a smile. He nodded quickly, and turned to head towards the Palace, sheets under arm.

 

Upon arriving and explaining, Shao was the first to give him a look.

 

“The fuck? We don’t need your sheets, man, we’re fine.”

 

“Shao, she’s not gonna let me in the house if I have these sheets still.”

 

“Well throw ‘em in the trash or something. I ain’t gonna take your sheets, I don’t roll like that.”

 

Beside him, Napoleon eyed the violent sheets, a hand reaching out to brush them softly. “I dunno, Shaolin, I like these.”

 

Shao gave the smaller boy a look, and he withdrew his hand slowly. The DJ looked to his wordsmith and sucked his teeth. “Look, we don’t need none of that. We’ve got all we need.”

 

Zeke frowned. “Okay, but consider this- It’s a gift. You don’t have to need it, you just take it and say something grateful. Like, ‘Wow, Zeke, thanks!’”.

 

There was a silence then, where Shao and Zeke seemed to stare menacingly at each other. Shao was determined to keep the sheets out of the Palace, and Zeke was equally as determined to keep them there no matter what.

 

In the end, Shao ended up sighing reluctantly, and before he could even say anything, Napoleon snatched the violet sheets and ran off to his part off the Palace. Shao yelled for him after, but didn’t chase him, shaking his head. “Christ- Fine. I’ll take your sheets. Just so your Tia don’t get pissy at you.”

 

Zeke rolled his eyes, and the two proceeded to get to work planning for their next gig.

 

On the way home from the Palace later that night, Zeke pulled his notebook out of his pocket, flipping through the pages to find the next blank one. The one he expected to be empty, however, was not.

 

Scribbled not very neatly on the page in red pen was a short sentence- “Wow, Zeke, thanks.”

 

Zeke stared quizzically at the words, before it clicked in his head and he snorted. Shao and his snark would probably always get the best of him. However, he felt that the words were pretty sincere, too, even if Shao would never admit.

 

Not too long after that, Zeke woke up early in the morning, just so he could grab a large bag of breakfast food and bring it over to the Palace. His treat- For such a job well done so far on their gigs. He entered the building without knocking, shrugging his coat off.

 

“Shao, you in here, man?”

 

He stepped into the main part of the Palace, and froze in his spot. His eyes went down to a flimsy little mattress that he didn’t recognize, with Shao curled up on it.

 

The mattress Shao had been on before was bare, grimey and down right disgusting. This one- It might have been the same, Zeke wasn’t sure- Had crisp, clean sheets on it. The rose ones. And Shao himself was curled up in the matching thin sheet of a blanket, hidden carefully in the cloth. The sight was a stupid thing to actually feel anything about, truly, but Zeke’s heart was warmed by it. He imagined Napoleon doing the same with his sheets.

 

The moment was disturbed when Shao snapped awake. He probably felt Zeke there with him.

 

“The fuck you starin’ at, Books?”

 

Zeke smiled and shook his head.

 

“Nothin’, B. I brought you some food.”

 

Later in the day, the rest of the brothers come down to the palace, and work on their verses for their gig. Zeke sat on the couch, legs tucked up. He twirled a pencil in between his fingertips, blocking out the scratches of records and the constant chatter of the brothers to listen over all the words flowing around in his head- poetic thoughts he still had trouble putting onto paper.

 

_You got an angelic face_

_That even the God divine_

_Cannot compete with_

_And as you lie on a bed_

_Of thorn covered roses_

_I could mistake you for dead_

_If not for your steady breaths_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, that took me way too long to get up! Sorry about that! The next three chapters will be posted quicker, I promise. Thank you all so much for your support!


	4. When I wanna kiss your...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pre-season 2 btw

IV.

One of the words that Dizzee had used to describe Shaolin was "photogenic".

 

"He'll look good in photos. Paintings, too." The eldest of the Kipling brothers had explained, like it was nothing to him. "Shao doesn't have a bad angle."

 

Zeke hadn't bothered to remember that. It was one of the many big words that Dizzee used that no one understood, and every one of those words had made it's way through one ear and straight out the other. No harm to Dizzee, the boys just weren't too into the words they never thought they'd use. Zeke at least tried to give the words the benefit of the doubt, but they still never stuck.

 

Well, not until the boys got the camera.

 

It was a pretty big deal when Dizzee brought the camera into the Palace. Small, plastic, and no big deal normally, it shaped an entire afternoon to one of procrastination and a surprisingly amount of excitement. They went to town with it. Dizzee took everyone's picture, when they posed and when they didn't. Ra-Ra took pictures of the room, even daring to move around the temple to capture more of it. Booboo kept trying to take pictures of the sun, or of Napoleon, who seemed to keep looking away when the lens was on him.

 

When Zeke got the camera, he wasn't sure what to do with it. He imagined he could do the same thing the others had done, but he didn't think that would be as fun. He moved it around his hands, before gently passing it back to Dizzee with a smile. Words were always easier to capture for him, anyways.

 

The night at the temple was long. The Kiplings had left, and with their leave came a blanket of exhaustion. Napoleon had long passed out. The many lights had been turned off, and the only brightness was the moon shining through the broken windows. Zeke hadn't gone home for a few days, and he figured he wouldn't until the week was over. This wasn't irregular. He liked being around the large space, around Shao. Mostly he liked being around Shao. It was scary to think about- how much he seemed to cling to Shao like... like candy melted to the ground in the summer's heat. He was stuck on the boy with concrete insides, who could scrape your skin and make your bleed, but you depended on him nevertheless. Zeke started to wonder how that could work, laying on the couch with his arms above his head, when a noise startled him out of his thoughts.

 

It must have been heard by Shao, too, because he rose from the rotting mattress he was previously asleep. The boys shared a look, and Shao groaned tiredly, standing. "Motherfuckers gotta keep it _down,_ m'tryna sleep..."

 

Once he was up, he went to the window in the corner, the light falling on his face in such a way that you couldn't see it. Zeke was interested in it. He didn't know why, but the way Shao looked... God, it was another one of Dizzee's big words, he knew it was in the back of his head somewhere.

 

Shao started to move. Fuck it, Zeke could remember later.

 

"Wait, wait, hold on Shao." He said suddenly, holding out a hand for him to stop. The other started to turn his head. "No, don't move."

 

The sound of Shao sucking his teeth echoed through the room, and Zeke could see him closing his eyes. "Books, I don't know what you're doing, but I would love to go back to sleep right about now." He muttered with pretty clear disinterest. "I know, I know, just gimme a second." Zeke told him. He stood, looking to the turntables. The camera sat perched on it, glistening plastic and color. He grabbed it and looked back to Shao, who looked incredibly tired. He set the camera up, moved to the best spot, which was almost right next to Shao. He covered the flash. Then, click. The camera whirred as the picture came out, and the took it, looking at it. "You can move, Shao."

 

The DJ exhaled, muttered something about a lack of sleep and Zeke being a weirdo. But he didn't mind. He held the photo, and stared at it, all through the night. Looking over the dark shade covering his face, and the little light shining through. He thought he could see all of the little details of his face from staring so long. He wasn't sure how much time passed by, but it was still dark when he looked up from the picture, an idea coming into his head. He pulled his notebook and pen from his pocket, and, looking at Shao to make sure he was sleeping, started to scratch down the words that flew through his head while using the picture as inspiration.

 

_Darkest silhouette,_

_Image of hidden beauty._

_Your features photogenic even in the shadow of the moon_

_I could grace those features with a kiss so soft_

_And that alone would make them recoil_

_Into scowls._

 

There was a moment where, while writing, he smiled in pride at the remembrance of two words he'd heard Dizzee used. But, it slipped away as his last few words appeared in shaped ink before him. Zeke's eyes darted back to his DJ with a sad gaze.

 

He couldn't keep these feelings on the page forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I died for a bit but look and back and with good boys!!

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all I've been on a k i c k today hoo. I've been working a lot on this for a while so please leave me some comments and kudos!! Also I swear I'm getting those ST fics up and running soon


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